


Numbered with the Living

by FB Wickersham (perpetfic)



Series: Hale County Township [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Female Friendship, Female Protagonist, Female-Centric, Gen, hale county township, literary fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:02:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3809668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/FB%20Wickersham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy wants to leave town, and to do that, she'll need to burn down her house. Irma and Mavis aren't quite sure what to do about this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Numbered with the Living

Irma told her husband about it at dinner. “Daisy watered her lawn for three hours today.”

“Mmm,” said Irma’s husband, Norman. His mouth was full.

“Mavis wanted to ask her why, but she didn’t want to be rude.”

“Three hours?” Norman asked, having swallowed his food. “That’ll kill the grass.”

“That’s what I thought,” Irma agreed. “But she kept it on her side of the bush, so I didn’t think it was right to bother her.”

“You should keep an eye on it,” Norman said as he cut his meat. “If too much of that water seeps over, it could hurt our grass.”

“Maybe she’s going on vacation,” Irma mused as she sipped her water. “Maybe she’s getting away.”

“She should set her sprinklers, then,” Norman replied, and Irma smiled at his no-nonsense tone.

*

Mavis, being a widow, had no one at home to talk to. She called her sister. “Daisy watered her lawn for three hours today.”

“Which one’s Daisy?” asked Mavis’ sister, Myrtle.

“The one next to me. Irma is on the other side,” Mavis said. “The tall one.”

“With the blonde hair.”

“Yes.”

Myrtle was quiet for a moment. “Three hours?”

“Yes.”

“Are you having a dry spell?”

“No. We had a quarter-inch of rain just yesterday. Well, I had a quarter-inch of rain in my gauge, but Irma had three-quarters, so we may have gotten half an inch.”

“Where’s your rain gauge?” Myrtle asked.

“On the south side of the house,” Mavis replied. “Next to my dogwood.”

“Are there branches blocking it?”

“Not that I’ve noticed,” Mavis said. “I’ve been thinking of moving it.”

“I think you should.” Myrtle went quiet again. “Three hours is an awfully long time to water a lawn.”

“I wonder if it could hurt my flowerbeds.” Mavis looked out the window in the direction of her flowerbeds. “I should ask the gardener.”

“If he thinks it’s inappropriate, he should have a word with her husband.”

“She’s a spinster,” Mavis said.

“Oh,” Myrtle replied. “That’s unfortunate.”

“I think it’s because she’s tall,” Mavis said. “I think men prefer dainty women. I’m sure it’s hard to be dainty when you’re tall.”

“You can be willowy,” Myrtle said. “And I think you can be composed, but I don’t know about dainty.”

“It must be difficult,” Mavis agreed, “to be a tall spinster.”

*

The next day, as Irma walked down the driveway to retrieve her garbage cans, she saw Daisy in her yard, garden hose in one hand. Irma waved at her. When Daisy waved in return, Irma called out, “Watering again?”

“Yes,” Daisy answered.

“Are you planting anything?” Irma asked.

“No,” Daisy answered.

“Just watering?”

“Yes.”

Irma wanted to ask more, but it felt rude. “Have a good day.”

Daisy waved in response instead of saying, “Same to you,” or “Enjoy the weather,” or “Thank you.”

*

“Has she been watering all morning?” Mavis asked Irma as they sat in Irma’s kitchen, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes after lunch.

“She was out there at nine o’clock when I got the garbage cans,” Irma said. “She’s been out there the whole time as far as I know.”

“She was on my side of her house for almost an hour,” Mavis said. “I was sewing a dress from that pattern you helped me pick out, and I could see her from my sewing room window.”

“Which pattern?”

“The pencil skirt and jacket,” Mavis said. “I’m using that dark purple brocade I told you about.”

“The one you found on sale?”

“Yes.”

Irma smiled. “That will look very nice.”

“I think so.” They sipped their coffee almost in unison. Irma took a drag from her cigarette after she’d swallowed.

“I’m worried she’ll ruin my flowerbeds,” Mavis said. “If the water seeps over. Myrtle thinks I should ask the gardener.”

“Norman’s worried about our lawn,” Irma said. “He’s afraid it will kill the grass.”

“He works so hard on his lawn,” Mavis replied.

“It’d kill him if anything happened to it,” Irma agreed.

They laughed together and sipped their coffee.

*

Mavis sat at her sewing desk, straight pins in her mouth, watching Daisy water her lawn. Daisy wore galoshes and sometimes when she took a step, little bursts of water splashed up under her feet.

“The grass is practically swimming,” Mavis muttered around her straight pins.

*

Norman stepped out of the car and saw Daisy in her yard. He waved, and she waved in return. She wore a floppy straw hat. Norman couldn’t see her eyes, but he could see her lawn and her brown galoshes. He walked to the property line, marked by a small bush he’d planted years ago, and he waited for her to look over.

“I’m concerned,” he said, “that your watering could hurt my lawn if it seeps over.”

“It won’t,” Daisy said.

“Why not?” Norman asked.

Daisy pointed towards the property line. Norman looked down and then crouched to see better. A few inches on Daisy’s side of the line, there was a furrow about two inches deep. It was half full of water.

“I had a surveyor come out last week,” Daisy said, “and he told me where to dig so the water stays within my property. I make sure not to fill it past the furrows, or if I miss and overflow, I stop as soon as I notice.”

Norman gave a nod. “That’s very clever.”

“Thank you.”

“And thoughtful.”

“I know you like your lawn,” Daisy said. “You’re out every Saturday. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Norman straightened up and looked over Daisy’s lawn. There were brown patches showing. “Are you meaning to kill the grass?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s in the way, and this is the easiest way to deal with it.”

“Your water bill will be high.”

Daisy shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Norman!” Irma called, her top half hanging out the front door, “Your dinner’s getting cold!”

“Yes, dear,” Norman called in return.

*

“What did she say to him?” Mavis asked Irma.

“She’s dug little ditches,” Irma replied, “to keep the water from leaking over. Norman seemed certain she did it on your side, too.”

Mavis looked out Irma’s kitchen window. She couldn’t see Daisy, but she could see the bright yellow garden hose. It curled in the grass, leading around the back of Daisy’s house. “But why is she doing it?”

“I don’t know,” Irma replied. “I was thinking of asking today, but Norman only asked her yesterday, and I don’t want to seem nosy.”

“That wouldn’t do,” Mavis agreed. “What did Norman ask her exactly?”

Irma closed her eyes for a moment. “He said he asked if she was meaning to kill the grass, and she said she was.”

“Why?”

“Norman said that she said it was getting in the way.”

“Of what?”

“He didn’t ask. I called him in for dinner before he could.”

Mavis stirred her coffee. “Oh, that’s too bad.”

“It is,” Irma agreed, and they both looked out the window as Daisy walked into view.

*

Mavis called Irma from the phone in her sewing room. “Are you in your kitchen?”

“No, I’m in the living room.”

“Does the phone cord stretch into the kitchen?”

“It can. What is it?”

“She’s peeling the paint,” Mavis said, watching Daisy. “She’s on a ladder, and she’s scraping the paint off the side of her house.”

“She hasn’t touched the side over here,” Irma replied, glancing out the kitchen window. “It’s still light green.”

“What is she doing?” Mavis asked.

“She could just be repainting.” They were both silent for a moment. “I’m going to ask,” Irma said.

“What?”

“I’m going to ask. We are her neighbors, and she is being odd.”

Mavis watched Daisy step up the ladder and scrape at another section of paint. “I’ll meet you on the sidewalk,” she replied.

“Okay.”

*

They stood on the sidewalk, shoulder-to-shoulder, and watched Daisy work.

“Say something,” Mavis whispered to Irma.

“I don’t want to startle her,” Irma replied. “She’s on a ladder.”

“We can’t just stand here.”

“Okay,” Irma said. “Okay.” She stepped into Daisy’s yard and paused when her foot sank half an inch into the saturated ground. She stepped back on the sidewalk. “Daisy!” she called.

Daisy looked over, shading her eyes against the sun. “Hello!” she replied. She gave them a half-wave with the hand holding the paint scraper. “Don’t step on the lawn! You’ll ruin your shoes!”

“Do you have a minute?” Irma asked. “We don’t want to interrupt.”

“Just let me get down,” Daisy replied. She stepped down the ladder and onto the lawn, resettling the ladder against the house before walking over to them, tiny plumes of water arching around her footsteps. She was barefoot, and her feet were covered in a light film of flaking dirt. “How are you?”

“We’re fine, thank you,” Irma told her. “Are you doing well?”

“I am, thank you.”

There was a pause. Daisy brushed paint chips from her overalls. Irma and Mavis glanced from Daisy, to the house, to the lawn, to each other.

“Are you repainting?” Mavis asked when she realized Irma wasn’t going to.

“No,” Daisy said. She wiped her forehead and looked up at the sky. “Do you think it’s going to rain?”

There were some light clouds to the west. “Maybe,” Irma said, “but it probably won’t be much.”

“It usually rains more this time of year,” Daisy said. “I was hoping for rain.”

“Why?” Mavis asked, and she put a hand over her mouth. It was a silly question to ask. It was hot outside. Rain would be a relief.

“I’m burning down my house,” Daisy said, glancing back towards the house. “The rain would help me with that.”

There was silence. Daisy kept squinting at the sky, eyeing the clouds. Irma and Mavis stared at one another in shock, having a silent conversation about who would ask.

“Did you say you’re burning down your house?” Irma said when Mavis’ tiny headshake and brief glare told her Mavis wasn’t going to ask any other questions.

“Yes,” Daisy said. She looked at them and smiled. It was sweet and wistful. “I’m hoping to have it done in the next week or so, but I may postpone it if we don’t get a bit more rain.

“That’s…” Irma pressed out a smile. “That’s very interesting.”

“Not especially,” Daisy said, “but it’s nice of you to say so.”

“We should be going,” Mavis said. “We have things to do.”

“Of course,” Daisy replied. “Have a nice afternoon.”

“Thank you,” Mavis said. She tucked her hand into the crook of Irma’s elbow and led her away. They didn’t speak until they were inside Mavis’ house, sitting at the kitchen table with coffee and cigarettes.

“Should we call someone?” Irma asked. She shook her head. “I don’t know if we should call someone. Do you think she was joking?”

Mavis stubbed out her cigarette. “I’m not sure. Is that something you joke about? Burning down a house?”

“But why would you announce it if you weren’t joking? She must know what it sounds like.” Irma looked out Mavis’ kitchen window. It looked out over the side lawn and the unused section of property beyond it. “She’s always been very odd.”

“She has,” Mavis agreed. “I remember when George—God rest him—and I moved in. She didn’t come over to greet us, like you and Norman did. I only started speaking to her because we kept passing one another on the sidewalk when I was coming to see you.”

“Her parents were still alive when Norman and I moved here,” Irma told her. “They were very old, but they seemed quite happy. They always waved from the porch when Norman and I walked by.”

“Has she always lived there?”

“As far as I know. Her parents—bless them—were nearly deaf because of age, so Norman and I didn’t talk to them very much.”

“How old was she then? When they were still alive?”

Irma thought back. “Norman and I moved in just after our second wedding anniversary. I was…twenty-two—no, I was twenty-three, and Norman had just turned thirty. I don’t know Daisy’s age. I always assumed we were close. She was finishing college when we moved in.”

“College?”

“She has a degree of some type. I don’t know what.”

“She never married, did she?” Mavis asked. “George and I didn’t move in long after you, only a year or two.”

“No, she never married. Her parents passed just a few months before you and George came into the neighborhood. So it’s been…twenty-something years since they died, and she’s lived alone there since.”

“I think it’s because she’s tall,” Mavis said. “I think men like dainty women, and it’s hard to be dainty when you’re tall, and so it’s difficult to find a husband.”

Irma thought about that. “I always thought she might be…funny.”

“Funny?”

“Funny,” Irma repeated. “In…that way.”

“In…oh.” Mavis pressed a hand to her mouth and looked down at her coffee. “I’ve never considered it.”

“I don’t know that she is,” Irma said. “I’ve just wondered if that’s why she was never married. She’s always seemed very nice—”

“Very,” Mavis agreed with a nod.

“But perhaps it’s something else. Maybe it simply didn’t appeal.”

“I can’t imagine marriage not appealing,” Mavis said. “I enjoyed mine so much.” She felt tears press against her eyes and blinked them away.

“And I enjoy mine,” Irma said, giving Mavis an understanding smile.

They fell silent again, looking away from one another, thinking about their marriages and Daisy.

“Do you think she’ll do it?” Mavis asked. “Do you think she really intends to do it?”

“I don’t know.” Irma shook her head. “It can’t be allowed, can it? To burn down a house, even your own house?”

“You should ask Norman,” Mavis said. “I’m sure he’d know.”

“Yes,” Irma agreed. “I’ll ask Norman.”

*

“She wants to burn down her house?” Norman asked. “Are you certain?”

“She said it,” Irma told him. “Mavis was with me. You can ask her.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Norman said. “You must have misheard her.”

“I did not mishear her,” Irma said, pursing her mouth. “I heard her clear as day, Norman. She says she plans to burn down her house.”

“But why?”

“I didn’t ask. I was a bit concerned she’d start immediately.”

Norman shook his head. “You must have misheard her. I’ll speak with her. I’ll get this cleared up.”

“Can she do it?” Irma asked.

“Burn it down?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know. Technically, it’s her property, and she’s allowed to do with it what she wants, but setting a home on fire is dangerous. The wind could pick up the flames and send them to our house. Or Mavis’ house.” Norman reached across the table for Irma’s hand. “Don’t look so worried, dear. I’ll talk to her right after dinner. We’ll get this straightened out.”

“Thank you, honey,” Irma replied and tried to fix her face back into a smile.

*

Norman found Daisy in her yard. He wore tall fishing boots because he had no galoshes, and Irma had mentioned the soaked state of the lawn. “Good evening,” he said.

“Good evening,” Daisy replied, looking up from where she was crouched next to a small hole in the ground. There was a burlap sack next to her feet, the bottom dark brown from the state of the lawn. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well. Yourself?”

“Just fine, thank you.”

Norman walked over to her and looked into the hole. “What are you planting?”

“I’m not entirely certain. I mixed all the seeds together.” Daisy stood and wiped her hands on her overalls. Norman noticed paint chips in her hair and her bare feet. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

“I was speaking to Irma over dinner,” Norman said, “and she said you told her you’re burning down your house.”

“Yes,” Daisy said.

Norman waited for her to elaborate. She did not. “Yes?”

“Yes, I am planning to burn down my house.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to live here anymore.”

“You could sell the house.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s my house, and it was my parents’ house before it was mine, and my grandparents built it here before there was a neighborhood or even other houses. I don’t want someone else living here.”

“You could leave it alone. You’ll be back, surely.”

Daisy shook her head. “No, I’m not coming back.”

Norman looked around, at Daisy’s house, at his house, at Mavis’ house, at the houses across the street and up the block. “Why not?”

“Why am I not coming back?”

“Yes.”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“It’s a good neighborhood.”

“It’s a fine neighborhood,” Daisy said. “But I’ve lived here my entire life, and everyone I knew when I was young is gone from here, and I’m starting to get old, and I don’t want to be here when I die.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the first person, since I’ve started any of this, who kept asking me questions.”

Norman didn’t know what to say to that. He pressed his feet against the ground and listened to the wet, sucking noise it caused. “We try to give one another privacy,” he said at last. “It’s one of the reasons we’re a good neighborhood. There’s politeness and there’s privacy.”

“I have lived here my entire life,” Daisy told him. “I remember the day you moved in. I remember the day everyone moved in. You’ve lived here almost thirty years, and this is the longest conversations we’ve ever had.”

“That’s can’t be…” Norman shook his head. “Maybe with me,” he conceded, “but certainly Irma’s taken the time. She’s a chatterbox.”

“She’s a chatterbox with Mavis,” Daisy said. “Not with me.”

“You’re burning down your house because my wife and her friend wouldn’t talk to you?”

“No. I’m burning down my house because I don’t want to live here anymore.”

“You could knock it down.”

“I don’t want to knock it down. I want to burn it down.”

“Why?”

“Because it is my house.”

Norman narrowed his eyes at her. She stared back at him, no change to the polite, cheerful expression on her face. “Are you on medications?” he asked.

“Not a one.”

“Should you be?”

Daisy shrugged. “My doctor has never suggested it, so likely not.”

“I think you should be,” Norman said. “I think you’ve cracked.”

“I assure you I’m completely clear-headed,” Daisy said. “Wanting to dispose of my property is not a sign of mental instability.”

“Wanting to burn down your property may be.”

“If you think so, I’m sure there are people you can call.”

Norman narrowed his eyes further. “Why would you say that?”

“You seem like a person who has people he can call.”

He did, in fact, have people he could call, but it was unsettling to hear her say it. “You do not know me well enough to say that.”

“Precisely,” Daisy said. She crouched back down and dug two fingers into the soil, carving out a small hole and dropping a pinch of seeds into it.

“You can’t just burn down a house,” Norman said.

She did not look up when she responded. “I am not burning down a house. I am burning down my house. And I am taking all precautions to guarantee I do not burn down your house—or even slightly singe it—when I do.”

“But where will you live?”

“In an apartment, I imagine. Something small with a nice view.”

“An apartment is not a proper home.”

Daisy looked up at that. She squinted against the sun that was flashing behind Norman’s shoulder. “And when where I choose to live is any concern of yours, I’ll request an opinion.”

“This is ridiculous!”

“It is my house and my property,” Daisy said. “I would appreciate if you would leave it now.”

“You can’t just burn down a house!”

“Give my best to Irma,” Daisy said, and dug out another hole with her fingers. The measured, calm motion of it made something grow tight in Norman’s chest.

“You can’t plant something and burn down your house. There’s no logic to it.”

“Not to you,” Daisy replied.

Norman searched his mind for a reply and could find none. He turned on his heel stomped back towards his house. Daisy reached into the burlap bag and dropped more seeds into the ground.

*

“Anything?” Mavis asked Irma two days later. They stood by Irma’s kitchen window, watching Daisy on her roof as she pried up shingles.

“Norman made calls,” Irma told her. “He says he’s not getting the right answers yet.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure. I think he means he’s going to keep trying.”

Mavis wrung a lock of hair around her finger and watched Daisy throw the shingles to the ground. “Why is she pulling up shingles?”

“I don’t know.”

“If she’s going to burn down her house, why is she taking apart her roof?”

“I don’t know,” Irma repeated.

“We could ask her.”

Irma shook her head. “I don’t want to ask her any more questions.”

Mavis thought for a moment. “I want to ask her a lot of questions.”

“Do you?”

“She wants to burn down her house just because she doesn’t want to live there anymore. Don’t you want to ask more questions?”

“I’m more concerned what a charred hunk of land will do to the property values,” Irma said. “People will think this neighborhood is unsafe.”

Mavis watched Daisy throw more shingles to the ground. “I still want to ask her questions.”

Irma shook her head and turned from the window. “I want her to leave.”

*

It rained the next day. Mavis kept glancing out the window of her sewing room, expecting to see smoke rising up from Daisy’s house. All she saw was Daisy on her front porch, under the roof, scraping paint from the eaves.

Mavis called Myrtle as she watched Daisy work. “She’s going to burn down her house,” she said.

“The tall one?” Myrtle asked.

“Yes. Daisy.”

“Why?”

“She doesn’t want to live here anymore.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Myrtle said. “And it’s dangerous. She could burn down the neighborhood.”

“She won’t,” Mavis replied. “She’s taking precautions.”

“You should call the police. She’s obviously unconcerned about any danger she might cause.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking. It’s…” Mavis found she couldn’t come up with the words. She watched Daisy lean against her porch railing and survey her work. “I should go,” she told Myrtle. “Better to call now before she takes it into her head to finish the job.”

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Myrtle replied. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

*

Mavis stood at the bottom step of Daisy’s porch, watching as she continued to scrape paint. She’d been there for five minutes, watching Daisy scrape. Daisy hadn’t acknowledged her. It was still raining, pattering against Mavis’ umbrella as she pressed her feet—slightly clumsy in George’s old galoshes—against the front of the step.

“Are you really going to do it?” Mavis asked finally.

Daisy turned, smiling at Mavis. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Are you really going to do it?” Mavis asked. “Are you really going to burn down your house?”

“As long as Norman doesn’t find a way to stop me, yes.”

“Do you want him to stop you?”

“No.” Daisy pushed her hair from her eyes and watched Mavis for a moment. “Would you like to come up on the porch?”

“Yes, thank you,” Mavis said, and she walked up the three steps and let her umbrella drop to her side. Daisy went back to scraping, and Mavis watched her move. “You’re really going to?” she asked again.

“Yes,” Daisy said without stopping her work.

“Because you don’t like it here?”

“Not precisely.”

Mavis spent a moment closing her umbrella properly, fixing the strap across the lower half that would keep the umbrella closed. She glanced at Daisy when she was done. Daisy was still scraping paint. “I don’t understand,” she said.

Daisy looked over her shoulder and stopped working again. She rotated her shoulder and put down the scraper before sitting on the porch railing. “I went to college in 1952. I studied English because I thought I would be a teacher. I graduated in 1956. My parents were older when I was born, and by the time I had finished my education, they were in need of someone to take care of them. I never married, and my parents left me this house and an inheritance. I’m 47.”

“I’m 49,” Mavis said.

Daisy shook her head. “I didn’t know that about you before,” she said. “I’ve lived here my entire life, and I don’t know anyone. And I don’t care to start learning.”

Mavis shook her head. “That’s rude.”

“That’s why I need to leave,” Daisy said. “Because I don’t want to be rude, and I don’t want to get to know anyone.”

“We’re nice people.”

“I don’t care.” Daisy said it like it made her tired. She looked out at the rain and sighed. “I wanted to be finished by now.”

Mavis looked out at the rain, too. “You said you were hoping for it to rain so you could burn your house.”

“Yes, but it’s not finished.”

“You’re burning it down. What’s to finish?”

“The precautions.” Daisy glanced across the side yard to Irma’s house. “Is Norman still making his calls?”

Mavis took a moment to consider her answer. Daisy already knew Norman was making calls. It couldn’t be breaking a confidence with Irma if she said something. “Yes.”

“I’d have taken all the precautions anyway, but I want to be certain to complete them all if he’s going to fight me.”

“What kind of precautions?”

Daisy waved an arm in a large arc, encompassing the wall and the porch and the house. “Stripping off the paint and pulling off the shingles and making certain the wallpaper paste is off the walls. If I left it on, it could be argued that burning down the house was an attempt to harm the neighboring properties.”

“But why would you do that?”

“Because I’m disgruntled, I imagine. I’m sure most of Norman’s calls have centered around the fact that sane people do not burn down their houses.”

“Perhaps,” Mavis said. She watched Daisy squint at the paint still on the wall. “Are you?” she asked very quietly.

“Am I?” Daisy asked in a normal speaking tone. She raised her eyebrows at Mavis. “Am I what?”

Mavis had to push against her manners to ask the question. “Are you sane?”

Daisy thought for a moment. “It is an extreme reaction,” she said slowly, “wanting to burn it down rather than sell it or rent it or have it knocked down, but I know it’s an extreme reaction, and I believe that being aware that it is extreme proves my sanity. I believe that the care I’m taking to be certain no one else is harmed by my choice proves my sanity.”

“Your yard,” Mavis said. “That’s part of the precautions.”

“Yes. I wanted it good and soaked in case it didn’t rain. I wanted to be sure that the fire couldn’t catch onto dry grass.” Daisy stuck her arm out into the rain and smiled as the drops hit her wrist. “I suppose that was a great deal of wasted effort.”

“Will you be finished before everything dries out?”

“I think so. I hope so.”

Mavis looked around the porch, noticing how little paint was actually left on it. “Where will you go?”

“Somewhere else. I have plenty of money, thanks to my parents, and I have plenty of places to go. I think I want a small apartment like my girlfriends had in college. Just a single room with a kitchen in the corner and a little bathroom with a shower.”

“Why don’t you just sell the house, then? You’ll have more money.”

Daisy pressed a hand to the porch railing. “Because it’s mine and belonged to my family, and I don’t want anyone else here.”

“You could leave it vacant.”

“I don’t want it to rot away without me.”

“But what about your things?” Mavis flushed when Daisy laughed. “I didn’t mean—”

“I’m sorry,” Daisy interrupted. “That was unintentional. I was laughing because I asked myself all the questions you’re asking me now.”

“And the answer was to burn down your house.”

“Yes.” Daisy looked at Mavis, and Mavis wondered what she saw. In the mirror, she was a stout little woman, grey streaking her hair as she settled into her older age. But Daisy smiled like she saw something else, and when she stood up, she gestured Mavis to follow her. “Let me show you the inside,” she said, and Mavis followed.

The house was almost bare inside. There was a worn armchair in the corner by the window in the living room, but the dining room and kitchen were both empty save the oven and refrigerator. “How do you cook?” Mavis asked.

“I don’t,” Daisy said, opening the refrigerator. There were supplies for sandwiches and a carton of milk. “I have cereal in the cupboard.”

“You don’t have any flatware!” Mavis said, and she laughed, but she wasn’t sure why. It was strange to stand in a bare kitchen, no towels, no pots, no spice rack.

“I have a spoon and a bowl and a knife and a fork and a plate. The rest of the dishes are packed away in the garage.”

“What will you do with them?”

“I’ll pack them in the car the day I leave. The same with my clothes and books and the chair.”

Mavis walked back into the living room and examined the chair. She touched it with her fingertips. It was soft and worn and the color of new grass. “Will it fit?”

“I’m attaching a trailer to the back of the car.”

Mavis turned in a slow circle, taking in the un-wallpapered walls. “Do you have any pictures?”

“They’re packed as well.”

“You’ve done so much work,” Mavis said. “And you’re just going to burn it down?”

“Yes.” Daisy leaned against the doorjamb leading into the kitchen. “My grandparents built this house. My father brought my mother here the day they were married. I was nearly born here.”

“Nearly?”

Daisy smiled. “Mother went into labor on the stairs, and she refused to move until the neighbors came over and pulled her up.”

“Oh, my,” Mavis said, pressing a hand over her mouth to hold in her laugh. “Was she okay?”

“She was fine, as was I.”

“And you don’t want to keep it?” Mavis asked, trailing her fingers along the empty wall. It was slightly uneven to the touch. “Your whole life is here.”

“My whole life is in boxes in the garage,” Daisy replied. “What’s here is just the container.”

Mavis thought of her own house. She thought of George’s clothes still in the closet pressing against her own. “I suppose. But to destroy it, I just can’t imagine.”

“It’s not destruction,” Daisy said, walking over to Mavis and putting her hand on the wall next to Mavis’ fingertips. “It’s a reorganization of matter.”

“A reorganization of matter?”

“It’s a scientific principle I learned about in college. I always liked it. Matter can’t be destroyed. Ice becomes water and water becomes steam and steam becomes vapor. Even if you can’t see it anymore, it’s still in the world somewhere. This house will become fire and smoke and then it will become ash. It will still exist.”

Mavis took her hand off the wall and looked around the living room. “Do you still have your bed?” she asked.

“I do,” Daisy said and smiled again.

Mavis glanced towards the stairs that led to the second story. She considered asking if she could see the whole house, but it felt impertinent. They weren’t close enough for such an intrusion. “Will you tell me when you’re about to do it?” she asked instead, surprising herself with the question. “I think I’d like to watch.” That surprised her even more, and the quiet in the room made it feel certain that she was being silly.

“I don’t think Irma would care much for that,” Daisy said slowly.

Mavis glanced at Daisy, expecting to see mocking in her eyes. Daisy only looked at her, smiling a little but not in a mean way. “Irma is a very good friend to me,” Mavis said, because it was true, “and I’m certain she’ll disapprove, but I’d still like to see it.”

“I’ll let you know,” Daisy said, pressing her hand hard against the wall. “I’ll let you light the match, if you like.”

Mavis felt a little thrill, up her spine and warming her through. “Are you certain?”

“If you’d like to do it, I don’t see why not. It’s just a match.”

“You should light it,” Mavis said. “It’s your house.”

“Okay,” Daisy replied, and she walked Mavis to the door. “I’ll come get you before I light the match.”

“Thank you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Mavis stood on the porch after Daisy shut the door and looked up at the rain as she opened her umbrella. There was something buzzing in her chest, warm and insistent. She pressed her hand against the spot where it was strongest, just under her sternum, and stepped off the porch.

*

“You went over there?” Irma asked the next afternoon as they had coffee. She looked like she wanted to ask more questions, mouth pressed tight like she was swallowing her words. “Did she say anything?”

“Not really,” Mavis said. She sipped her coffee to hide the lie. “She just wants to burn down her house, Irma. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“She could sell it. There are plenty of decent people who’d take care of that house.”

“It’s not about the house.”

Irma shook her head. “How is it not about the house? She’s burning it down.”

“It’s just…” Mavis watched her fingers tap the edge of her cup, not sure how to articulate what she was thinking. “The house is just a container,” she said, but it sounded wrong. She’d enunciated it incorrectly, put the emphasis on the wrong word. It needed to be an evenly stressed sentence, the way Daisy had said it. “She’s not going to hurt anyone,” she said rather than try again.

Irma watched her with narrowed eyes. “Do you like her?” she asked.

“It’s her house, Irma. And she’s taking every precaution.”

“You like her,” Irma hissed.

Mavis shook her head. “I never said I did,” she said in a quiet voice. “I said it’s her house.”

Irma was quiet for a long moment. She set her coffee cup down with a small, hard clink. “I know you’ve been sad since George passed—”

“This isn’t about George passing,” Mavis said, swallowing hard to keep herself from crying. “And I know you don’t mean to sound harsh.”

“I don’t…” Irma paused and shook her head. “I don’t mean to,” she agreed. “She scares me. It’s such an odd thing.”

“Odd?”

Irma gave a near-silent chuckle. “I can’t think of a better word for it. It’s just…odd.”

“She means to be harmless,” Mavis assured her. “I saw the inside of the house. There’s almost nothing left. She’s not just doing this to be shocking. She’s obviously thought it out.”

“Still.” Irma took a long drink of her coffee. “Norman still means to stop it,” she said after she’d set her cup down again.

“I don’t think she’ll fight him if he does. She’s very…calm about the entire thing.”

Irma looked out the kitchen window. It was still raining. There was no sign of Daisy. “I suppose that’s something.”

*

“I have it,” Norman said when he walked in the door that evening.

“Have what?” Irma asked, kissing him hello and taking his briefcase. “I made you a drink. It’s in the kitchen.”

“Thank you,” Norman said. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “It’s an injunction against that woman next door.” “Daisy,” Irma said.

“Yes, her. I spoke with a judge I know, and he agreed that her hope to burn down her house—and possibly ours—voids her rights as a property owner.”

“I don’t think she means to burn down our house,” Irma said.

“She means to burn down hers,” Norman replied. “That’s close enough to my property line for my tastes.”

Irma put Norman’s briefcase in the front closet and thought about what Mavis had said earlier in the afternoon. “Are you going to present that paper to her?” she asked as she walked into the kitchen. Norman was sitting in a chair at the table, sipping his drink.

“No, a process server is delivering it right now. I saw him pull into her driveway.”

“Well,” Irma said. She didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t want Daisy to burn down her house, but she felt guilty that Norman was stopping her. She wasn’t sure why. It was perfectly understandable that she didn’t want to watch a house burn so close to her own, and Norman was doing the proper, legal thing in getting an injunction.

“Irma?” Norman asked, raising his eyebrows when she looked at him. “Are you feeling well?”

“Fine,” she answered. She leaned down and kissed him on the top of the head. “I’m fine.”

*

“Hello,” Mavis said when Daisy answered the door. “Irma called me,” she added before Daisy could say anything. “I’m sorry.”

Daisy smiled, the disappointment in her eyes making it hollow. “That’s kind,” she said.

“Will you fight it?”

“No. I can’t imagine I can explain myself well enough to a judge that he won’t call me crazy.”

Mavis clucked her tongue in sympathy. “Will you still leave?”

“Yes. I’ve been packing up the car. I’m leaving early tomorrow morning.”

Mavis reached into her pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “I’d like you to write me, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“Write you?” Daisy asked as she took the paper. Mavis’ address was written on one side.

“I married George two weeks after I met him,” Mavis said. “We met and we fell in love and we convinced a justice of the peace to perform the ceremony.” She looked down at her hands, twisting her wedding band around her finger. “We were married for 27 years, and now he’s been…gone…for almost a year.”

“I remember when he passed,” Daisy said.

“Yes.” Mavis looked at Daisy again. “You said a house is just a container, and I think you might be right, but I don’t know what other type of container to live in. I want to be in the container where George was.” She paused as the memory of George in the house warmed her and made her sad in the same moment. “I don’t understand why you would leave the house where your life has been, but I left the house where I grew up to marry George, and maybe it’s different if the memories you have of a house don’t include someone who kept you company in a certain way.”

Daisy didn’t reply for a moment. “Maybe I’ll find out,” she finally said. “I’d like to. I remember seeing you and George walk by. You always looked very happy.”

“We were very happy.”

“I’m glad.”

“Thank you,” Mavis said. “I hope you become very happy when you leave.”

“I’ll write whether I do or not,” Daisy promised. “It was good to know you, Mavis.”

“It was good to know you,” Mavis replied, and she walked off the porch and back to her house.

*

“She’s gone?” Myrtle asked when Mavis called her the next day. “You saw her leave?”

“She left this morning with a trailer behind her car,” Mavis told her.

“And the house?”

“It’s still there.”

“Perhaps you’ll get a neighbor who won’t cause such a fuss.”

“Perhaps,” Mavis agreed. She glanced out the window of her sewing room at the house. There was still a strip of paint along a board near the roof. Mavis stared at it as Myrtle switched topics.

*

“Gone!” Norman said, lifting his voice to make the end of the word a happy boom.

“Yes,” Irma replied. “I saw her leave this morning.”

“Excellent,” Norman said. “Everything’s better, then.”

“Yes,” Irma agreed. She looked out the kitchen window and saw someone in silhouette in the dying light. She squinted against the sun to try and see who it was. “Norman?”

“Yes?”

It was Mavis, Irma realized, walking from around the back Daisy’s house. Irma watched her walk towards her own house.

“Irma?” Norman asked. “Was there something you needed?”

A thin curl of smoke rose into the air against the bright red of the setting sun. “No,” Irma said. “Never mind.”

*

The flames rose well over the roof of the house. Irma and Mavis stood on the sidewalk in front of it and watched the sparks of the fire fly high into the sky. A few feet away, Norman argued with a distinguished-looking man in a dark blue suit.

“…presented the paperwork!” Norman yelled, the first half of the sentence lost in the roar of the flames. “…find her and charge her!” followed next.

“She left twelve hours ago,” Irma said to Mavis. “Norman is concerned they won’t charge her for violating the injunction.”

“The fire only started a little while ago,” Mavis said. “How could she have started it?”

Irma looked at Mavis in the light of the fire. She looked calm and composed. There was a box of matches in her left hand. “Coffee?” she offered.

“Yes,” Mavis said. “I’d like that.” She tucked the matches into her pocket as they walked by Norman and the firefighter.

They had their coffee on the porch, smoking as they watched Daisy’s house burn to the ground.

*

Three weeks later, the vacant space between Mavis and Irma’s homes was a collection of wildflowers and prairie grasses. They walked through the sudden meadow rather than on the sidewalk and met in the middle.

“What was it like?” Irma asked as they picked flowers for their homes.

“Terrifying,” Mavis said, picking a Black-Eyed Susan and twirling it between her thumb and forefinger. “But look what it brought us.”

“Yes,” Irma agreed, leaning down to let the prairie grass bat against her fingers. “Have you heard from her?”

“She sends her best.”

“That’s nice of her,” Irma said. They were silent as they finished picking flowers.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story a few years ago and got it published in a small journal, and now it's become the cornerstone of a larger set of stories, and all I want to do is share it with people. So, I hope you liked it.


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